


Temptation, Defilement, Salvation

by Lady Angel (dameange)



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameange/pseuds/Lady%20Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Father Nathan met Eliot, he experienced four things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation, Defilement, Salvation

Nathan saw him sporadically. A silent lion padding into the back of the church, mahogany mane burnished with the soft light of candles and reflections of stained glass. He never stayed long, he never stayed the whole service, and Nathan never saw him outside of mass. He wasn't of the community, never said a word to anyone. Paul didn't know who he was and his fellow priest had only seen him once. Nathan didn't even know his name but he thought it must have been Temptation.

Nathan joined the priesthood for so many reasons, one of them to sublimate the inappropriate feelings he had for George, his childhood best friend. But even in the seminary those feelings hadn't gone away. He had meet Paul there but the feelings felt even more wrong, even more of a betrayal of their friendship. Finally, after years and years, after penance and prayers, he could control them. Until now, until this beautiful stranger, who was always on the edge of his mind's eye.

He was puttering in the church, needing the peace and serenity inherent in the cool marble and warm wooden pews of God's house. He thought he was alone until he turned and saw the storm cloud blue eyes and warm, unruly mop of brunette hair. Up close, not a church length away, he was even more breathtaking than Nathan had imagined. Broad shoulders and only a little shorter than Nathan, the other man filled Nathan's air with his presence. His palms itched to touch and trace, so he folded them around a prayer book instead, resisting. "Hello."

"Hi." His voice was whiskey warm Southern Comfort that Nathan ached to taste.

He cleared his throat, swallowed the rising lust. "Can I help you?"

The other man ducked his head, bashful and endearing. "Will you hear my confession, padre?"

Nathan nodded, still not trusting his voice, himself. He started to lead them to the confessional but a big callused hand caught him. He stared at that hand, fingers tangled with his own.

"I'd rather do this face to face, if you don't mind, father."

Nathan nodded. He'd rather take refuge in the dark, confining confessional, where he couldn't see the other man, barred from touch by the walls, separate even as he heard the most private of intimacies. He carefully tugged his fingers free, slipping into the closest pew. "I'm Nathan," he introduced himself, hoping he would get a name in return. He didn't always, especially in his role as father confessor, but he couldn't keep calling him Temptation, even in his own mind.

"Eliot."

It fit him. "It's nice to meet you, Eliot."

Eliot smiled at him, accompanied by that bashful duck of his head again, as he seated himself too close for Nathan's peace of mind. Immediately, he fell into his training, starting with the words for confession, hiding behind tradition. Again, he was surprised by a hand on his own, stopping his flow. He stared at Eliot in surprise.

"I'd like to just talk," he answered the unasked question.

Nathan nodded, settling himself. The conversation stuttered at first. He contributed the awkwardness to himself, his unruly libido, but eventually, he relaxed, giving Eliot counsel and listening to his confessed sins. Violence, Nathan had guessed correctly, especially when he had seen the scarred hands. But he couldn't, didn't want to, think of Eliot as a bad man. Everything about Eliot drew Nathan in and engendered his trust. The feeling merely grew as they talked long into the night. When Nathan yawned, Eliot thanked him and took his leave. He was never so disappointed to see another person leave in his life.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long to see Eliot again. He was making it to Mass every time it was Nathan's turn at the lectern. Sometimes, he even stayed afterwards, mingling in with the crowd, smiling softly and charming the little old women into extra servings of everything. Other times, he slipped away without a word to anyone, merely winking at Nathan before leaving. It was weeks before Nathan had a moment alone with Eliot again. He appeared, right after Nathan had closed the church from that afternoon's confessions.

"Hi."

"Eliot." Nathan smiled at him, sitting down in a silent invitation at him to do the same. Eliot took it, sitting down too closely like always. Nathan was starting to get use to it. Starting to get use to the simmer of arousal whenever the other man was near. "How was your trip to Russia?"

"Cold."

Nathan's laughter turned to a pleased smile when Eliot presented him with yet another foreign delicacy. The other man had started bringing him little things from his travels, food mostly but sometimes trinkets too. Nathan knew better than to ask what Eliot did on these trips of his but he always looked forward to the stories mixed in with his 'confessions.' "What is it?"

"Medovie." Eliot made a fork appear out of nowhere, flipping open the white baker's box.

Nathan stared at the tan, crumbly, layered confection. "Again, I ask, what is it?"

The cake trembled from Eliot's soft, warm laughter. "Honey layer cake."

"Ahmmmmmm." Nathan blinked, automatically closing his mouth around the cake-laden fork Eliot surprised him with. He slowly chewed on the soft cake, letting it melt in his mouth, leaving honeyed trails of sweetness. It was as delicious as Eliot's pleased smile.

"Like it?"

"Uh huh," he barely got out before Eliot feed him another bite. It was strange, being feed cake while Eliot confessed to whatever sins he thought he committed. Nathan knew, without a doubt, that the violence inflicted by Eliot was well deserved. He never knew the particulars but he just couldn't imagine this man as evil or bad. Before Nathan knew it a good fifth of the little cake was gone and he had been the only one eating. "Aren't you going to have some?"

Eliot stared at him. Nathan ducked his head, hastily cleaning at his mouth, completely unsure for the reason behind all that focused attention. Shocked into compliant stillness at the fist under his chin, raising his head, and tilting it just right. Eliot's lips were as soft as they looked and even hungrier than Nathan could imagine. Almost as hungry as his own. A soft, wicked tongue chased the traces of honey and cake, teasing Nathan closer to an altar stone body, coaxing him open for deeper and deepest of kisses.

He sank his hands into Eliot's hair, tangling eager fingers into rough silk sable, wanting more, wanting it all. Fervent enough to climb into a hard lap, desperate enough to forget vows, to forget fear, and just feel. Feel the callused gentleness of Eliot's hands cupping his ass, running up the line of his back. Feel the muscles under Eliot's soft cotton button down, feel the hunger and desire in his own lips, pressed into the hollow of Eliot's throat. Tasted the salt and strength of this man, licking his way back to the paradise that was Eliot's mouth.

Nathan gasped, being picked up and bodily turned, sprawling in the pew. He stared wide eye at Eliot between his legs, crouched on the marbled floor, lowering the kneeler, lowering Nathan's zipper. The pink and red of his cock was lewd against the black of his clerical pants. The high banded collar of his clergy shirt choked the air from his lungs until Eliot undid the buttons and collar, leaving Nathan naked from heaving chest to the middle of his trembling thighs. Eliot licked his nakedness, holding him down when Nathan bucked up to that hot mouth. Clever, clever knife-nicked fingers teased and tormented his nipples as Eliot lipped and brushed and whispered his way down Nathan's chest. Playfully nipping at sensitive skin, nosing and nuzzling into sensitive hairs, blowing hot moist air on a severely neglected cock.

None of it prepared him for the shock of being taken deep into the moist heat of Eliot's mouth. Nathan grabbed at the pew, digging his nails into the wood, straining against the muscle and sinew band across his hips. Breathed Eliot's name like a benediction. Eliot teased him, chaste kisses to the tip, a sinful lick up, a brief hallowed suck that turned into an evil taunt. He kept Nathan frantic and reckless, begging for more, begging for mouth, tongue, and throat. Pleas echoing in the marble and stained glass church. Supplicated until Eliot ended his exquisite suffering, taking him deep, taking him wet, taking him so perfectly Nathan nearly wept. Tight and hot, moist and flawless, Nathan rode the ecstasy that was Eliot's mouth.

Whined a shocked, pleasured sound when rough fingertips pressed against a virgin hole. Squirmed, spreading himself wider, frustrated at the limits of his pants, pushing down onto those slick, wanted fingers, pushing back up into Eliot's incredible mouth. More and more fingers worked him open, making him want, making him need. He never felt so full, so complete, so empty in all his life. They slid in deep, hitting sacred pleasure. It wasn't quite enough, but it was all that was necessary. Nathan fell into a bliss so painful he saw the Church slipping away.

Nathan harshly panted, hands still clenched around the edge of the pew, eyes staring unseeing at the frescoed ceiling. Slithering movement caught his attention; Eliot flowed up from his knees to hover over him. He inhaled masculine sweat and clean shampoo, absently lipping at the auburn strands brushing his face, shivered at the feel of Eliot's tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been an hour since my last confession. I knew it was wrong, but I defiled one of God's priests in his own holy house any way." Eliot ran his tongue in a long wet stripe up his neck, catching his mouth in a kiss so profane it was reverent. "Forgive me, Father, but I want to do it again. Forgive me, Father, but I'm not sorry."

Nathan reached for him, pulling Eliot's solid body into the cradle of his thighs, pulling back that sinful mouth, tasting himself inside. "Neither am I."

The End


End file.
